


Confessional

by BloodiedRose



Category: Dorian Gray (2009), Dorian Gray - All Media Types, The Picture of Dorian Gray - Oscar Wilde
Genre: Character Study, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Manipulation, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-10
Updated: 2017-05-10
Packaged: 2018-10-30 06:16:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10870821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BloodiedRose/pseuds/BloodiedRose
Summary: Dorian and Henry are both somewhat intoxicated, and Henry is more than willing to play with what is offered to him.





	Confessional

**Author's Note:**

> Set early on in Dorian's story. I did not give physical descriptions for the characters and their actions suit both the book and the 2009 film, so I decided to tag for both. Additional Warnings for a very complicated relationship and some derogatory remarks about prostitutes.
> 
> I have been trying to write for Dorian/Henry for years now, and have finally succeeded.

“I think Basil may be in love with me,” Dorian mused to the air. There was a fire flickering in the background somewhere, unnoticed unless it ceased to provide warmth for the room’s occupants. Not that they needed much warmth in spite of the cold winter air. A small indulgence in wine had turned to an excess, and that excess was keeping the blood in their veins warm enough for the coldest chill. Henry lounged in one of Dorian’s chairs. Well, Dorian was the owner of the piece of furniture and so it was indeed his in truth, but Henry chose it every time he visited and so in thought it may as well have been his. Dorian had instead chosen to sprawl himself out on the carpeted floor. He was young enough for such an action to still be endearing. Henry took another puff from his pipe.

“Of course he is. Basil is a sentimental man, and you my boy are a pedestal for sentiment.” Henry took another drag from his pipe. 

“He just loves the masterpiece that he created. As I was the focus, and he has been separated from his favourite work, I am the subject of those adorations.”

“Or perhaps he loves his masterpiece so because it is his only chance to claim you.”

“I am but a piece of canvas, onto which artists and philosophers paint their desires…” Dorian murmured. Even from far away, Henry could see how the flames flickered in the boy’s eyes. 

“I fear something must have tainted the wine. It is causing you to overthink, and you are far too beautiful for such an endeavor.” Another drag of the pipe. He heard a slight huff from Dorian, and believed it to be one of amusement.

“You are right, of course. I must leave the action of thought to my superiors. You always make it so jovial, while it is causing me melancholy.”

“Your talents are far superior to intellect, Dorian. Allow me to think for you, for I have long ago squandered my other abilities.”

Dorian sat up, a small smile on his lips. The everchanging light from the fireplace echoed across his features, causing his skin to be paler than usual and his beauty even more defined by the shadows. Henry could understand why Basil would be so eager to put the boy in each one of his paintings. He was not certain that if he reached out to touch the boy his fingers would not instead end up touching paint. Dorian then drew one of his knees to his chest and rested his chin upon it, his arms embracing his own leg. It made him look so startlingly young.

“Then do you truly think it? That Basil is in love with me?” Dorian asked the question with such a wistful sadness that Henry was not sure of the answer the boy desired. The boy had grown a tendency to bouts of melancholy after his moments of joyful decadence. But only around Henry, it seemed. A pity.

“He is not strong enough to resist it. You make everyone fall in love with you.”

“Not you.”

“Oh, I adore you as much as the next man, if not more so.”

“I think you love me in the same way you love your favourite book. My cover is astonishingly beautiful, and the pages intrigue you. But I am not a person to you.”

Henry was disappointed that the only thing that upset him about such a claim was that he was unaccustomed to be outwitted by someone. Aloud he had often praised Dorian’s intellect for being nigh nonexistent and thus improving upon his beauty. But in his mind he had on occasion lamented the boy’s propensity for being somewhat dim. It instead appeared that Dorian was studying Henry as much Henry had been studying the boy. In his chest he felt a surge of pride. The boy was not wrong, of course. Henry did love him dearly, but he could not promise that he would be able to think of the boy as much more than a reflection of his ideals that idolised him as a boy would his father.

“Are you going to try to deny it?” Dorian asked. He stood. The fire was no longer reflecting in his eyes but there was indeed fire resting there. A blaze that was spurned on by the wine’s intoxication but certainly not the direct result of it. Henry thought he could deny it, and blame the wine for putting such paranoid beliefs into Dorian’s mind. But he was caught up in the enjoyment of Dorian’s moment of genius that he did not. He only smiled at the boy. It seemed to have been the correct response, for Dorian climbed onto his lap in the way his wife’s cat delighted in doing. Not once did Dorian break the contact between their eyes as he sat down, straddling Henry’s thighs.

“Tell me what you want my actions to be,” Dorian whispered. “I will perform them most ardently. That is the symbol of my love.”

“Do what you own heart desires. You have made me curious,” Henry replied. He expected it, but was still surprised to find Dorian’s lips on his own. The boy kissed passionately, as if he were being given that for which he was starved. He kissed well enough to prove that he had done it before, but still fumbled like the love struck youth he was. It would be a shame to leave the boy disappointed now that such a rare opportunity had arose, so Henry deigned to kiss Dorian back. For once he allowed Dorian the power over their actions, and found it to be an enjoyable endeavour. 

Dorian removed his lips from Henry’s and their eyes met again, briefly, before Dorian placed his lips on Henry’s neck instead. Henry found his hands being directed down Dorian’s body and soon he was touching the unblemished skin that rested beneath it. Dorian shuddered when Henry’s hand brushed particularly sensitive spots, and Henry could feel rapid breath on his neck. He allowed himself to look at his partner. Dorian was always a pleasure to look upon, but this was ecstasy. The signs of arousal often ruined a beautiful face, Henry had found. The cheeks would blush unevenly, and the sweat would make the skin look like wax instead of marble. But not Dorian. Even now he was beautiful, and Henry felt smug. He was being permitted a sight that Basil would have slaughtered himself to see.

Dorian slid from Henry’s lap and onto the floor in a movement that should have been absurd, but instead was performed with such practised grace that it was wonderous. It should have been surprising that Dorian loved him in this way. Henry had long since assumed that Dorian’s affections for him were the results of having no father to speak of, and being raised by a grandfather who was either cruel or absent. Or perhaps it was some of both- romantic love and craving for an older male to teach him. The boy had had no father, and so perhaps had never learned how to divide the two desires. It was a fascinating theory. Psychologically, the boy was as complex as he was beautiful. 

Henry allowed Dorian to grant him pleasure before he put his hands beneath the young man’s arms and brought him to his feet. Dorian’s eyes shone with tears and more than a little shame. Dorian wiped at the lips with which he had just been performing sinful acts. His eyes refused to meet Henry’s now, but still he returned to sitting on Henry’s lap, albeit curled on Henry’s thighs rather than straddling them. 

“Why do I feel like you are about to pay me?” Dorian asked. It may have been an attempt at humour, but his voice was devoid of anything aside from sorrow and shame. 

“Because we are both intoxicated, and will likely forget this incident in the morning.”

“I won’t. I will not forget this moment in my life,” Dorian nuzzled Henry’s neck before resting his head on Henry’s chest. It was remarkable, that his cat and his friend were so similar. “I am sure that its memory will be all that can bring me pleasure from now on.”

“I told you not to fall in love, Dorian.”

“But at that moment I was already in love with you.” Dorian sighed. “For a man who praises decadence, you love restraint. You adore infidelity but are resolutely faithful to your wife. No matter how much you praise Plato’s Heavenly Aphrodite, you do not practice in her delights.”

“Is that so? I wonder what you believe just to have happened.”

“You know I would give you far more. I would be your mistress if you wished it, or even some loathsome creature lower than even prostitutes because I debauch myself without any desire of payment. You are a hypocrite, Henry, who aspires to be a sinner.”

“Only you understand me.” Dorian smiled and relaxed against Henry’s torso.

“Because I love you.” Henry felt the first drop of tears against his neck. It was in a dejected voice, reserved for the heroine before her moment of dying, that the final question came: “Why won’t you love me?”

“I would never ruin my favourite book with a happy ending,” Henry replied. Dorian hummed. Henry wondered if the boy fell asleep then, goosebumps forming as the cold air attacked his bare back and chest. He simply held him tighter and watched the dying fireplace. His wife would be wondering where he was.

**Author's Note:**

> Heavenly Aphrodite is a reference to Plato. One of his characters divides love into the Heavenly Aphrodite (born out of Cronos' castration of his father, and is therefore free from mortal origins) and the Earthly Aphrodite (who was born out of Zeus having sex with a goddess). This character tries to argue that love wherein an older man has a relationship with a younger man in the hopes of making the younger man flourish as a person is Heavenly Aphrodite. Earthly Aphrodite is how he describes relationships between men solely about sex or any romantic relationship involving a woman. The Greeks were charming like that.
> 
> Comments are welcome.


End file.
